Best Kept Secrets (27 page)

M.J. moved closer to her husband on the bed, pressing her chest to his back. “We have to do it again,
mi amor.
”

They’d shared dinner secreted behind a high hedge in the boxwood garden as the sun began its descent. They lingered after streaks of blue and orange feathered the darkening sky and stars dotted the heavens. It had been their time together to “talk” without words.

“When?”

M.J. placed light kisses along the curve of his spine. “Saturday.”

“It can’t be Saturday.” Samuel’s voice was muffled in his pillow.

“Why not?”

“I may have to go to Puerto Rico Saturday.”

M.J. sat up and switched on the table lamp on her side of the bed. “When were you going to tell me, Samuel?”

Rolling over on his back, he looked up at her. Her face was flushed with color. “I said I
may
, M.J.”

“When will you know?”

“Probably tomorrow.”

She folded her arms under her breasts. “How long do we have to be married before you’ll trust me?”

“What makes you think I don’t trust you?”

“Because you never talk to me about your other life. I can’t plan anything because I never know if you’re going to be around. Mrs. Harris, Everett and Mr. Grady see you more than I do. Your secretary knows your every move while I have to guess as to whether I should wait dinner or even stay up for you.”

Pushing into a sitting position, Samuel shook his head. “Why are you doing this, M.J.?”

“Doing what, Samuel?”

“Ruining a wonderful evening with your nagging.”

With her eyes wide, her jaw dropped. “Oh! You think I’m nagging?”

“Yes.”

“You think I shouldn’t be upset? Well, I am, Samuel Cole. And as your wife I believe I’m entitled to more than three days’ notice that you are planning…no, you
may
go away.”

“Why are you carrying on like this?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I want my husband, Sammy.”

Reaching out, he pulled her into the circle of his arms. “You have me, baby.”

“But for how long?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The sharp edge M.J. despised had crept into her husband’s voice. Whenever they disagreed about something he was quite adept at making it look as if he were the wronged party.

Bracing the heels of her hands against his chest, she freed herself. “You’re here, yet you’re not here. When I get up in the morning you’re gone. I go to bed, and you’re still not home. Yet when I ask you about it you say you’re working. Working doing what or with who?”

Samuel decided to ignore her innuendo that he’d lied to her. “Have you forgotten that my businesses aren’t in West Palm? It would be easier if they were in Florida. My only means of communication is either by telephone, mail or telegram. Then there is the matter of different time zones and the custom of siesta. Have you been away from Cuba so long that you’ve forgotten that no one conducts business during siesta?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“So, why are you complaining?”

“I don’t see you enough. The children don’t see you enough. And I’m tired of talking to you about it,” she said through clenched teeth.

Samuel threw up a hand while shaking his head. “I will never understand you. You wanted to be married, and I married you. You wanted to live in the United States, and you’re here. You complained that the house in Palm Grove Oval was too small, so I built you a new one. Not once did I complain when you said you had to have this icon or that heirloom piece.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I used my money, Samuel.”

“Let me remind you that the money your father gave us as a wedding gift wasn’t enough to decorate this house. You ordered whatever you wanted, and I paid the bills. You wanted children, and I’ve given you those. What the hell else more do you want from me?”

“I want you, Samuel.” The four words were pregnant with emotions running the gamut from frustration to fear.

The clock on the bedside table ticked off the seconds as they glared at each other. The uncomfortable hush swelled with each passing tick.

Samuel broke the silence when he said, “You have all the me I’m able to give you at this time.”

M.J. felt her stomach roil, and she thought she was going to be sick. She suspected she was pregnant again, but wanted to wait until she was certain before telling Samuel.

Her menses was a little more than a week late, and if she was pregnant, then this confinement would be similar to when she carried Nancy. She tired easily and her breasts were very sensitive. Within minutes of waking and her feet touching the floor, she’d found herself racing to the bathroom to involuntarily purge her stomach. She wanted this baby
and
she wanted her baby’s father. It was something she refused to negotiate.

“That is not acceptable, Samuel.”

He slid down to the mattress, turning his back to her. “I’m sorry about that, M. J., but that’s the way it is, and will be for some time.”

It wasn’t what Samuel said that caused a shiver to rush over M.J.’s body, but how it was said. It held a tone of finality that would not permit her to come back at him. He was telling her she did not have to like it, but that she had to accept it.

Reaching up, she turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Moving closer to the edge of the bed, she withdrew from her husband, physically and emotionally.

Samuel picked up the telephone and placed a call to the manager of the Sun Trust branch where he had his business account. “I’d like to make a cash withdrawal,” he said quietly.

“How much, Samuel?”

“Everything but twenty thousand.”

A choking sound crackled through the earpiece. “That’s a lot of money, Samuel. It’s going to take about a week to get that much cash.”

“I’m aware of that,” Samuel countered as he drew interlocking circles on a pad. “I’m going to be out of my office for a few days, so there’s no rush. I’ll call you when I get back.”

“I can have it delivered to you.”

“That’s okay. I’ll pick it up myself.”

“No problem, Samuel. You can be assured I’ll use the utmost discretion with your transaction.”

Of course you will, you greedy bastard
, Samuel mused. Whenever he withdrew large sums of cash he always gave the manager a cash gift for his
discretion
when he counted and bundled the bills in their corresponding denominations.

“I’m sure you will,” he concurred. “I’ll call you again next week.” That said, he ended the call.

Withdrawing money from a bank paled in comparison to what lay ahead of him. Teresa had translated the cable from his Puerto Rican coffee broker that had been delivered to the office an hour ago. He had to go to the island country to inspect his coffee crop, and it was recommended that he bring his own translator. That wasn’t possible because Everett was still in San Isidro.

With the exception of Jamaica, every business holding of ColeDiz International, Ltd., was in a Spanish-speaking country; the irony was that the head of the company was unable to speak or understand the language of the laborers who harvested the crops that afforded him great wealth.

A light tapping on his door caught Samuel’s attention. Teresa stood in the doorway, clutching a folder. He stood up. “Yes.”

“I just thought of something.”

“What is it?”

“I can act as your translator when you go to Puerto Rico.”

Samuel stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. “No, Teresa.”

“Why not?” she asked, stepping into the office.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Is it not appropriate for you to travel with Everett?”

“That’s different,” Samuel countered.

“Why? It is because he is a man, and I’m not?”

“Yes.”

“You want to punish me because of my sex?”

Samuel felt as if he’d been chastised. The coffee plantation in Adjuntas was his first American investment, and he was determined to make it a success.

“No, Teresa, I’m not punishing you.”

“Then let me accompany you to Puerto Rico,” she said with a quiet firmness. “I will record everything, act as your translator, and if I take a typewriter I can type up the reports while we’re there.”

A tentative smile found it way across his face. He had to admire Teresa. She had an air of calm and self-confidence, which he liked. He’d rejected her offer because she was a woman, a very attractive woman.

“When did you come up with this plan?”

Cradling the file to her chest, Teresa wrinkled her nose. “When I translated the telegram to you.” She closed the distance between them. “You need me and you know it.”

Samuel shook his head slowly. “No, Teresa, I don’t need you. ColeDiz needs you.”

An unwelcome blush crept into her cheeks. “I stand corrected. ColeDiz needs me.”

He saw the eagerness and a glint of amusement in her eyes. Teresa was right; ColeDiz did need her. “Okay, Teresa.”

Her pale eyebrows lifted. “Okay?”

“You can come with me. I want…” His words trailed off as he reached into a pocket of his trousers. He slipped two twenties from his money clip and handed them to her. “I want you to take the afternoon off and buy yourself something to wear.” He returned the clip to his pocket. “Let your father know I’ll be by later on tonight to explain why we’ll be traveling together.”

Teresa took the money as panic knotted her stomach muscles. She’d forgotten about her father. She had to formulate a plan that would convince Ramon Maldonado that private secretaries usually accompanied their bosses on business trips.

T
he stabbing pain in the back of his right hand began with the loss of altitude as the aircraft made its descent; it banked to the left before leveling off in preparation for a landing at the San Juan, Puerto Rico, airfield. The Pan American Airways aircraft had taken off in West Palm Beach in bright sunlight and was scheduled to touch down in rain-soaked San Juan.

Reaching over, Samuel captured Teresa’s left hand. Her sharp nails had left four distinct half-moon impressions on his skin. Her eyes, wide with fear, were fixed on the seat in front of her. It was her first flight, and it had become a harrowing experience when the plane flew into a violent thunderstorm.

He patted her shoulder. “It’s over, Teresa.”

Shifting in her seat, she stared at Samuel, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m not flying back to Florida.”

Leaning closer to her so the other passengers wouldn’t overhear their conversation, he whispered, “We have to.”

She blinked once. “You can go back to Florida on an airplane, but I’m not!”

A muscle in Samuel’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“There is no later, Samuel.”

His fingers snaked around her upper arm, holding her in a firm grip. “Do not challenge me, Teresa. And in case you’ve forgotten why we are traveling, let me remind you that this is a business trip, not a holiday jaunt. This is the first and hopefully the last time that I’m going to remind you that as the head of ColeDiz International, Limited, I give the orders. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Sudden anger fired Teresa’s eyes, the green orbs paling and clawing his arrogant face like talons. How dare he talk to her as if she were an imbecile! Within seconds all of the love she had for him was replaced with a seething rage. At that moment if she’d had a knife she would’ve plunged it into his heart. She compressed her lips, her mouth thinning into a hard, straight line, and without warning a single tear found its way down her golden cheek.

Teresa closed her eyes, biting back the hot rush of tears welling up behind her lids. “Yes, Samuel. I understand quite well.”

Samuel swore under his breath. He’d become his father, threatening and bullying those he sought to control. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket’s breast pocket, he touched it to Teresa’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, Teresa.”

He was sorry, and she couldn’t stop crying. She had permitted the man she loved to see her as weak, helpless. Leaning to her left, she pressed her face to his shoulder.

He smelled and felt so good. Her heart softened as she melted into Samuel’s strength. “Hold me. Please,” she pleaded.
Tears streamed down her face, tears of love and a joy so full that she feared blurting out what lay in her heart.

Samuel held her, his chin resting on the top of Teresa’s head. He did not know what it was about the young woman in his arms that tugged at his heart in a way no other woman had done before. He saw her more as a girl than a woman. At nineteen, she was the same age M.J. had been when he’d first met her.

Convent-educated Marguerite-Josefina’s involvement with political dissidents, university intellectuals, artists and her worldly aunt’s influence had afforded his wife a sophistication Teresa lacked.

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her fragrant hair. “It’s all right, baby.” The endearment had slipped out unbidden, but it was too late for Samuel to retract it.

Teresa felt a measure of relief that Samuel couldn’t see her triumphant expression. Her plan to seduce Samuel had taken an about-face; he had become the seducer.

Samuel eased her back, blotting her face with his handkerchief. “Look at me,” he said softly when she attempted to turn away.

Teresa covered her face with her hands. “No, Samuel. I must look horrible.”

He pulled her hands down, his fingers tightening around her tiny wrists. “Let me be the judge of that.” His mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “You give new meaning to the word horrible. You should cry more often because your eyes are breathtakingly beautiful. Right now they look like polished emeralds.” Her spiky wet lashes framed a pair of eyes that had darkened to a deep, rich green.

She blushed to the roots of her silver-blond hair. “You need glasses.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. You are an incredibly beautiful woman.” She averted her gaze, charming Samuel with the demure gesture.

The flirtatious repartee ended when the airplane’s wheels
touched the ground, bumping several times before the aircraft came to a stop.

Samuel turned away from Teresa to stare out the tiny window; the fat drops sliding down the window reminded him of the tears of the petite woman sitting beside him. Why had her tears disturbed him so much?

Conversations that had ended with the plane’s descent started up again, the chatter escalating to excitable shrieks. Samuel unbuckled his belt, waiting for Teresa to do the same.

Forty minutes later they were seated in a taxi, the driver taking a route that led to Viejo San Juan.

Samuel listened intently to the conversation between Teresa and the hotel manager, understanding little of what was said. They’d checked into an establishment that was a fifteenth-century convent-turned-hotel.

He stared at her delicate profile, unable to tear his gaze away from her animated features when she leaned forward, laughing at something the man said to her. It was as if they’d shared a private joke, and for a brief moment Samuel wondered if he was the object of their humor.

I need to learn to speak Spanish
. M.J. had offered to teach him, but it was as if he never could find the time to sit with her. He hadn’t had the time because he was too engrossed in making money.

He recalled his wife’s accusation about not seeing enough of him, but what she failed to understand was his obsession, an uncompromising desire for success, and at any cost.

He’d given his wife everything she’d asked for, and some things she hadn’t. He had enough money not only to take care of his wife and their children for the rest of their lives, but also for his grand-and great-grandchildren. He couldn’t claim the honor of being the first black millionaire, but he could, if he continued on the same course and at the same pace, become the first black billionaire.

Teresa turned to Samuel. Droplets of water shimmered in his close-cropped hair. She forced herself not to stare at him or he would see the longing in her gaze. “Our rooms are on the top floor, in the back overlooking the courtyard. We’ll have to share the bathroom that connects the two rooms. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure.”

At that point Samuel would willingly agree to any room. He was exhausted. He’d gone to bed after midnight, and woken three hours later to discover M.J. in the bathroom on her knees, retching.

His first impulse was to postpone the trip, but she’d convinced him that her upset stomach was the result of eating something that hadn’t agreed with her. He’d carried her back to bed and stayed with her until Martin and Nancy came to the bedroom to see why their mother hadn’t come down to the kitchen to eat breakfast with them.

“Are you all right, Samuel?” Teresa said when she noted his faraway expression.

“Yes,” he answered much too quickly. “I’m just a little tired.” He forced a smile. “This is one time I’m totally in favor of taking siesta.”

A slender man with distinctive Indian features gathered their bags. Bending slightly, Samuel picked up the case containing Teresa’s typewriter.

“Please tell the manager that if any messages come in for me, he’s to bring them to my room.”

Teresa translated for Samuel, and together they climbed the staircase, following the baggage handler.

Her room was small, clean and functional. It contained a bed, straight-back chair and chest of drawers. Walking to the window, she opened the shutters, stepping out onto a balcony with a wrought-iron railing. Resting her arms on the railing, she spied a marble fountain in a corner of the courtyard under the
broad leaves of a banana tree. The smell of wet earth and the cloying scent of orchids growing in abandon filled the air.

She returned to the room and discovered Samuel in the doorway, arms folded over his broad chest. There was something about his relaxed stance that made her mouth go dry. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and had unfastened several buttons on his shirt. He gave her a slow smile.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s nice.”

Samuel lowered his arms. He agreed with Teresa. Their rooms were clean while the rear courtyard was available to hotel guests to take their meals or just relax in.

“I came to tell you that if you want, you can use the bathroom first. Just knock on my door when you’re finished.” Turning, he left as quietly as he’d come.

Teresa crossed the room, closing and locking the door behind him. She opened her single piece of luggage and withdrew a dressing gown she’d purchased with the money Samuel had given her. Liliana had accompanied her on her shopping outing, and together they’d selected several shirtwaist dresses, frilly undergarments and shoes. Before walking out of the store, she made a final purchase.

She opened the door separating their rooms. It wasn’t a bathroom, but a water closet. There was no bathtub, just a toilet and a makeshift shower.

Her heart sank. She loathed showers. When Samuel instructed her to make reservations for two with private baths, she never thought to ask if the bathroom had a tub. How was she to know? After all, this was her first business trip, and the first time she’d traveled out of the United States.

Aware that Samuel was waiting to use the bathroom, Teresa picked up a small cotton drawstring bag containing her soap, toothbrush and tooth powder. Fifteen minutes later, she knocked on the door to his room.

What she’d noticed when standing under the spray of the cool water was that there were no locks on the doors leading into the bathroom.

Samuel knocked on Teresa’s door, listening intently for movement on the other side. He knocked again.

“Are you looking for me?”

Samuel turned around, and then went completely still. He’d recognized the voice, but the woman standing before him did not look like the one who’d come to Puerto Rico with him.

Teresa Maldonado had cut her hair.

He blew out a breath. “Wow!”

The smoldering flame in Samuel’s eyes startled Teresa. She hadn’t expected his reaction to her new hairstyle. “You like it?”

Attractive lines fanned out around his dark eyes when he smiled. “Yes. You look fabulous.”

Her cheeks coloring under the heat of his gaze, Teresa touched the silver waves on the nape of her neck. “It’s going to take some getting used to.” Her heart thumped uncomfortably when Samuel continued to stare intently at her. “You wanted to see me about something?”

He blinked once, as if coming out of a trance. “Yes…yes, I did.” Reaching inside his jacket, he handed her the cable from Rodolfo Hernandez, the plantation foreman.

Teresa translated, saying,
“Will send a car and driver Tuesday. Be ready at ten. Bring work clothes and boots.”

Samuel pondered the cable. It was Saturday, which meant he and Teresa would have two full days in San Juan before they would be driven to the mountain range.

“I didn’t bring work boots,” Teresa said, handing the cable back to Samuel.

He saw her look of distress. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you what you need. We’ll go shopping Monday.”

Her face brightened. “I like shopping.”

Throwing back his head, Samuel laughed loudly. “What woman doesn’t?”

Teresa couldn’t control the heat stealing across her face and darkening her burnished gold skin. He was laughing at her. Opening her pocketbook, she grasped her key and put it into the lock. She had to get away from Samuel before she broke down.

She doubted whether he laughed at Marguerite when she told him she was going shopping. Not Her Highness, his beautiful Cuban princess. Her hands were shaking so much that the key wouldn’t turn.

Moving closer, Samuel brushed Teresa’s hand away and turned the key. The lock opened silently. “What’s the matter?” he asked close to her ear.

Shivering from his warmth, his smell and the wall of his chest against her back, Teresa swallowed the moan quivering in her throat. Didn’t he know? Did he not know how much she loved him, wanted to lie with him?

“Nothing, Samuel,” she lied softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The word came out in a whisper.

Curbing the urge to touch the pale strands falling in precise waves on the nape of her neck, Samuel closed his eyes for several seconds. He didn’t know what it was about Teresa Maldonado that made him reckless, reckless enough to give in to the strong passion she elicited just by sharing the same space.

“Change into something pretty,” he crooned close to her ear. “I’m taking you out. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Nodding numbly, Teresa removed the key from the lock, pushed open the door and closed it behind her without turning around. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. Gasping, her breasts rising and falling as if she’d run a grueling race, she stumbled on trembling legs to the bed and fell across it.

Samuel rose to his feet, eyes wide, and stared at the vision in green seemingly floating toward him. If it hadn’t been for the pale moonlit hair, he wouldn’t have recognized Teresa Maldonado.

A dress the color of the Caribbean skimmed her body like liquid silk. The hue was the perfect complement for her complexion. Narrow straps held up a barely modest décolletage. His gaze moved down her body, caressing every inch of her bared flesh. He stared at the slender legs encased in silk and her feet in a pair of high-heel pumps. The shoes had added at least three inches to her diminutive height.

Teresa shuddered visibly under his slow, agonizing perusal. Men had stared at her, but none had ever undressed her with their eyes. Once she was back in control of her senses, she’d showered again, taking special care to pluck away any visible hair not covered by the dress. Having inherited her father’s light hair color had its advantages. A light dusting of face powder, a few strokes of a gray eyebrow pencil, black mascara applied only to the tips of her lashes, and a coat of dark red lipstick completed her makeup application. She and Liliana had experimented over and over applying makeup until they achieved what they thought were perfect results. She knew not to use dark colors on her eyes because they made her look possessed.